


diamond ring blues

by polkadot



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Engagement, F/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-26
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 16:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/981144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkadot/pseuds/polkadot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Despite Andy's "helpful" suggestions, Novak is not going to propose to Jelena with a candy ring.</p><p>He may, however, end up murdering Andy before the day is through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	diamond ring blues

“You do realize,” Andy says, his voice dry, “that I’m probably the last person you should be taking with you.”

He does have a point. Novak reaches up nervously to pull his baseball cap down lower. Nobody on the sidewalk seems to be looking at them – is it against New York social custom to look at people even if you’re about to run into them? – but they _are_ famous, and there _is_ a rather important tournament taking place right now. It would be just his luck to run into a photographer, or a fan with a cameraphone, on today of all days.

Still, it could be worse. “It’s not like we’re Roger and Rafa,” he tells Andy, dodging to the side to let a young woman with a baby stroller power-walk past him. “We’re the nondescript ones.”

“Speak for yourself,” Andy says, giving him that blank stare that means he’s laughing on the inside. “Some of us just won Wimbledon.”

Novak makes a face at him.

“Besides,” Andy says, as Novak looks both ways for lurking paparazzi before turning into the doorway of their destination, “I didn’t mean that you shouldn’t bring me with you because I’m famous.”

“What did you mean, then?” Novak asks, wearily. This has already been one of the most tiring days he’s had in months, and he doesn’t even have a match. The layers of planning and deception required to get away from both his team and his family, _plus_ the difficulty of arranging things at the store when the people who usually do all the arranging for him are by necessity entirely out of the loop…he feels like he needs a nap, and it’s not even 3 yet.

He’d never realized how much work it would be to convince people of his identity when he couldn’t say, “Just call Jelena Ristic at…”

“I meant,” Andy said, prodding him into the shop, “that I’m going to be useless at this.”

There are more display cases than Novak’s ever seen in his life, and behind each one there’s an impossibly chic attendant. Perhaps it’s his imagination that they are all, every single one, staring in disapproval at his baseball cap. _It’s camouflage!_ he wants to wail at them, but he doubts they’d be impressed.

“What do we do now?” he stage whispers to Andy.

“Not that I’ve been engagement ring shopping before,” Andy says, raising an eyebrow, “but you could try going up to a counter and saying, I’m Novak Djokovic and I phoned earlier and you didn’t believe it was me and Andy Murray’s people had to call and tell you it was really me, and…”

“Shut up,” Novak hisses at him. The nearest attendant, who would put even Roger to shame in the style department (and that takes some doing), looks even more disapproving than ever. Apparently hissing is not cool.

Andy ignores the instruction. “There’s still time to do what I said you should do.”

“I’m not proposing with a candy ring,” Novak says, flatly. “This is important.”

~//~

“If you think you’re going to blame that on me,” Andy says, “I can just go back to the hotel and play Playstation like I was planning to do this afternoon.”

Novak’s finding that the New York sidewalks are surprisingly easier to navigate with your arms crossed over your chest. “If you hadn’t told that salesperson that the ring was ugly…”

“Well, it was,” Andy says, reasonably. “Very ugly.”

“You said yourself you knew nothing about it!” Novak mutters, glaring down at the street.

Andy shrugs. “It was your fault anyway. He showed us the ugly rings because with that hat on you look like the kind of person who wants that kind of bling.”

“One more word against the hat,” Novak says, threateningly, “and you get to wear it.”

“Try it and it’ll have a tragic accident.”

~//~

The saleslady at the second shop is far more friendly than the scarily stylish ones at the first. “I have _just_ the thing,” she says, before Novak is even a third of the way through his explanation about his ring needs. (Basically, he needs a ring that is beautiful, not too showy, and says “I love you forever, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and you are far far too good for me”.)

Andy leans back against a pillar while they wait for her to return. “See. Told you that you shouldn’t have called ahead to that first one. Much better to just drop in like a normal person.”

“I still haven’t forgiven you for getting us tossed out of the last shop,” Novak tells him, loftily.

“We didn’t get _thrown out_ ,” Andy says, tapping his fingers on his arm. “You just got too embarrassed to stay. There’s a difference.”

“Your fault,” Novak says, because that point is a very important one to understand.

Andy opens his mouth to retort, but the saleslady’s returned and is beaming at them again. “Here,” she says, opening a box and setting it on a stand so they can see the contents properly. “This is our rainbow collection, specially designed for us by…”

Behind him, Novak can hear Andy choke and then start coughing. He resolutely ignores him and peers politely into the box. She’s a very nice lady, after all.

~//~

“I thought some of those were very nice,” Andy says, grinning. He’s not a very good person.

Novak lengthens his stride. It’s already half 4, and they’re nowhere closer to being done. “When I propose to you I’ll be sure to get one.”

“When you propose to me,” Andy says, “I expect the full deal. Roses, champagne, string quartet…”

“String quartets are for weddings,” Novak tells him, and then abruptly realizes that he’s going to have to have a wedding. The onset of sudden panic – if he can’t even organize a ring properly, how the _hell_ is he supposed to manage a _wedding_ \- fades, however, as he remembers that he’ll have Jelena’s capableness back for that.

If she doesn’t leave him because he’s completely inept at this ring business.

“You know,” Andy says, grabbing Novak’s elbow to stop him from colliding into a businessman with a briefcase the size of Gulbis’s fortune, “you keep looking around every corner for photographers, right? Well, if any of them are actually following us, they’re going to have pictures of us looking at rainbow rings.”

If she doesn’t leave him because she thinks he’s secretly in love with his annoying best friend.

Having saved him from the businessman, Andy links their arms together and swings him into the doorway of yet another jewelry shop. (Just how many does New York have?) “C’mon, lover, let’s get a ring and be back in time for Playstation and pizza.” 

If she doesn’t leave him because he’s in jail for manslaughter.

~//~

“Is it just me,” Andy says, under his breath, “or was that last one the same as one of the first ones he showed you half an hour ago?”

“It wasn’t half an hour ago,” Novak says, although he suspects it probably was. “And no, that one was a princess cut not a square cut.”

Andy snorts. “Like you know what either of those mean.”

Dammit.

~//~

Andy insists after the fifth shop on taking a detour to get hot dogs. They sit on a bench and eat them together.

“Hey, look at the bright side,” Andy says, nudging him in the ribs. “You’re not nervous about ring-shopping anymore.”

“That’s true,” Novak says, gloomily. “Just in despair.”

Andy sighs, tossing his napkin expertly into a nearby trashbin. He’s got ketchup straggling up his cheek. “Look. You love her, right?”

“Yeah,” Novak says. The word doesn’t come close to it, but he knows Andy will understand.

“Then it doesn’t matter if it’s princess cut or square cut or has those diamond things around the band or takes your entire Australian Open prize money,” Andy says, with the crooked smile he’s had ever since they were kids together. “Or if it’s candy, which I still think is the best. If you love her, that’s the important part. Not the ring.”

Novak hates to admit it, but he’s right. 

Andy pokes him in the ribs again.

“Fine,” Novak says, poking him back and then jumping up before things can degenerate into a full-out poke war. “You’re right. But I still want it to be perfect.”

Andy heaves an enormous sigh and manfully struggles up from the bench.

~//~

“I think,” Novak says, after the next shop, “that if Grigor ever wants to propose to Maria, we should send him there.”

It had been just a _bit_ too fancy for Jelena. Just a bit.

“Nah,” Andy says, “Sugarpova-ring all the way, dude.”

~//~

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I hate to ask,” he says, “but can’t we call Kim?”

Andy looks at him like he’s gone around the bend. “You want me to call Kim from a jewelry store and ask her to come down and help us pick out a ring for another woman?”

“Maybe that wasn’t my best idea,” Novak says, feeling woebegone, and rubs the brim of his baseball cap for good luck.

“Although…” Andy says, musingly, “maybe…”

Novak has a sudden horrible presentiment. “Not your mother.” Then, remembering Andy’s year-long feud with Juan Martín after the Argentinian insulted his mother, “I mean, I like her, but I don’t think her style…”

“Relax,” Andy says, laughing. “Not my mum.”

~//~

“It’s beautiful,” Jelena says.

She’s tucked into the curve of his arm, smiling up at him, and he knows he’s grinning far too widely, but he can’t help it, because _she said yes_ , and _he’s getting married_ , and holy fuckanoodle _she said yes_.

“Where did you find it?” she asks, leaning up to kiss him.

When they break apart again he barely remembers the question – his brains feel scrambled. “New York.”

“Ah,” Jelena says, sounding wise and amused at the same time. “The day you went all mysterious.” She giggles. “I thought you were just sneaking off to play Playstation with Andy without Marián or the press getting wind of the ‘rivals hanging out’ bit.”

“There was sneaking involved,” Novak admits. “Though Andy’s horrible at it.”

“Wait,” she says, eyes widening, “you took _Andy_ with you?”

Retreat is the better part of valor. “I think,” he says, nuzzling her ear, “that ring-buying was not my finest hour. But it all worked out eventually.”

“It _is_ beautiful,” she says, sincerely. “I’ll have to thank him for helping you.”

Novak has an evil thought. “Make sure Kim’s there when you do.”

Jelena laughs, shaking her head, and leans up to kiss him again. He is the happiest of men, and the luckiest, and his ring sparkles on her finger.

Maybe after the wedding he’ll confess the final chapter of this particular story.

~//~

“Told you my expert would get it done,” Andy says, waving the Playstation controller expressively at him.

Novak flops onto the couch next to him. He feels like he’s just played a five-setter, not spent three hours on the streets of New York with frequent detours into jewelry shops.

But there’s a ring box in his pocket, and if Andy notices that he keeps slipping his fingers in to touch it, he’s being polite enough not to mention it. 

(Or the too-wide grin that keeps slipping onto Novak’s face when he forgets to suppress it.)

“Budge over,” Mirka says, prodding him with her console.

Novak does.


End file.
